


Love and Other Concerns

by innerdialogue



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-06
Updated: 2012-06-06
Packaged: 2017-11-07 00:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/425108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/innerdialogue/pseuds/innerdialogue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Percy finds he is unsure of what the future holds for his relationship with Annabeth, he calls the one person he knows for sure can help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love and Other Concerns

Percy Jackson had done a lot of crazy insane things in his lifetime. He has slain minotaurs, fought sword to sword with the god of war, and even sent the very king of the titans to the deepest, blackest part of Tartarus. He’s survived exploding cruise ships, erupting volcanoes and still somehow survived to tell the tale.

Though despite his many accomplishments in the realm of the mythical and supernatural, Percy Jackson finds himself baffled by one of the most normal things in his life.

How in the name of Poseidon is he going to propose to one Annabeth Chase, his beautiful and slightly threatening girlfriend?

He has no idea, of course, so he decides to seek the help of a person whose job description includes all things in the matters of the heart.

“I was so pleased when Piper told me you wanted to speak to me about something, Percy,” Aphrodite says as she flicks through clothing hanging on a rack. They’re standing in the middle of Barneys, Percy laden down with dozens of shopping bags. He was surprised at how quickly the goddess of love agreed to meet with him, requesting only that he accompany her on a shopping trip in the City. They had been at it all morning, and Percy was growing tired of standing there.  
“You know I’ve always held a particular interest in your relationship with the beautiful Annabeth Chase. You both have always had so much promise. I’m thrilled that you’ve begun to think about sealing the deal. Though you do know that marriage falls more under Hera’s expertise, don’t you?”

“I know that,” Percy says, juggling the half dozen bags in his arms. “But it’s actually not the marriage part that I’m worried about.”

“You’re worried about whether or not you and Annabeth love each other enough to get married,” Aphrodite suggests.

Aphrodite is right of course. Percy doesn’t doubt his love for Annabeth. She is literally his one tie to this world; He was a spot on his lower back that says exactly that. Neither does he doubt Annabeth’s love for him. They’ve been dating long enough for him to be sure of how she feels about him. But dating someone and marrying someone is a Pegasus of a different color entirely.

She sighs and turns from the rack. “None of this is really me, don’t you think? I think we better move on.”

They leave the store and begin down the sidewalk.

“Percy, darling,” Aphrodite says, taking his arm and placing her hand in the crook of his elbow. “You know better than anyone, perhaps, of the fickleness of the gods; we aren’t known for our fidelity. We’re like hummingbirds, flitting from one flower to the next, each as beautiful and eye-catching as the last. Oh, we may stay with a particular lover for a while, but eventually we move on.”

Percy clenches his jaw as they make there way down the crowded sidewalk. “So you’re saying my mother was just some fling my dad had because he was bored?”

“Oh no, Percy,” Aphrodite exclaims, squeezing his arm. “No, no, no! That’s not what I’m saying at all! I more than anyone know how very much in love your parents were. Your mother ignited something within Poseidon that I haven’t seen in centuries. He was ready to give Sally the very ocean he was so in love, but he knew he couldn’t. Your father still thinks of your mother every day. No, Percy, you and your mother mean fore to the lord of the seas than you’ll ever know. Remember that.”

Somewhat satisfied with her answer Percy continues to allow Aphrodite to pull him through the crowd. The snow is falling even harder now, obscuring the skyline around them. There was nothing more beautiful than Christmas in New York City, Percy thinks, even considering the renovated Mount Olympus on top of the Empire State Building, though he wouldn’t dare tell Annabeth that.

“Snow is beautiful to look at, but it does nothing for my hair,” Aphrodite sighs, brushing a few flakes from the shoulder of her coat. She tugs on Percy’s arm, pointing to a Starbucks. “Let’s duck in here and warm up, shall we?”

So Percy lets the goddess of love guide him into the coffee shop. There is a rather long line already at the counter, but as soon as they pass over the threshold it seems to dissipate, parting like water. Once they have placed their orders with the more then enamored barista, Aphrodite led him to the corner where two men very graciously—and perhaps a little slack-jawed—give up their armchairs. Percy carefully sets all of Aphrodite’s purchases on the ground before sliding into a chair.

“Why are you telling me this?” Percy asks as he watches Aphrodite unwind her scarf from her neck.

Before she can answer the barista appears with their drinks, setting them down clumsily on the small table between them.

“Thank you, darling,” Aphrodite says, flashing perhaps the brightest smile Percy has ever seen. She shoos the barista away and picks up her cup of tea, sipping it tentatively. “I envy humans and their ability to lose themselves in love. To give so much of yourselves into something so wonderful, so inspiring as love… I wish gods could be so lucky. Oh, we fall in love, but our responsibilities prevent us from ever giving ourselves over completely to those we love. That may be the one luxury we as gods lack, though don’t let the others know I said that. I believe humans have always been superior to the Olympians in that aspect.”

The two lapse back into silence as Aphrodite begins to flip through a fashion magazine that had appeared from nowhere, leaving Percy to sip awkwardly from his drink. He waits for the goddess continue, knowing that it would do no good to push her.

“Trust Annabeth, Percy,” Aphrodite says finally, closing the magazine and setting it aside. “Trust that she loves you very much. You don’t need me to tell you that, do you?”

Percy shakes his head. “No. No, I don’t.”

“Good boy,” Aphrodite says, patting him on the hand. “Now get going. You have a proposal to plan.  
~*~

 

And so he plans it.

His parents try to help. His mother, of course, suggests the classics—fancy restaurant, candlelight, wine or champagne, and dancing followed by a bent knee and heart-felt confessions of love. Percy thinks briefly considers it but ultimately decides against it; that scenario was for normal couples, and Percy and Annabeth were anything but normal. Paul suggests taking her to the top of the Empire State Building—the normal one, for a change— or perhaps the Brooklyn Bridge. Annabeth loves architecture so why not capitalize on that? Again, Percy decides against it. It’s not quite right for them either.

Chiron, Grover, and Thalia each give their own two cents on the matter—they are the only people who know his girlfriend as well as he does—but none of their advice really sticks with him.

Surprisingly it was Nico who gives him the best advice.

“Screw the romance, man,” the son of Hades says without taking his eyes away from the television. On the screen his avatar is hacking and slashing its way through an army of undead soldiers. “Since when as Annabeth ever cared about that crap anyway?”

Percy shrugs, rapidly pressing the buttons on his own controller. Despite it being his video game, somehow Nico has surpassed him in the art of zombie slaying. Percy wonders if the boy’s powers of necromancy extend even to virtual dead people. “I mean, she doesn’t not care about romance. She just doesn’t like it when it seems forced. Which is strange, to be honest. Annabeth is all about the planning.”

Nico mows through another wave of the undead. “So there you go. Don’t plan anything, dude. Just, you know, follow your gut and everything. Isn’t that what heroes are best at?”

Percy sighs just as his avatar disappears under a mob of ravenous zombies. “Okay, fine. Can we play something else?”  
~*~

 

The best laid plans of mice and men often go astray.

Percy doesn’t know who originally uttered this particular phrase, but he knew that whoever he or she had been, they were on to something. The day—Christmas Eve, in fact—had been progressing splendidly if he said so himself. He and Annabeth has spent the day with his parents decorating the Christmas tree—blue lights and blue ornaments, of course—and baking cookies. After lunch, Annabeth had dragged him out of the warm and cozy apartment to finish up some very last minute shopping. He had protested, of course—trying to navigate New York City on the afternoon of Christmas Eve was suicide even for seasoned New Yorkers like himself—but she eventually won the argument and they proceeded into the city.

Annabeth was also the one to suggest that they cut through Central Park in order to avoid most of the traffic. He agreed, hoping for a little action by the frozen reservoir, but his plans were interrupted rather spectacularly by a very irate cockatrice.

“Percy, don’t look at it!” Annabeth yells, hidden somewhere beneath her invisibility hat. “It can kill with one glance.”

He wants to argue that he is, in fact, invincible, but somehow he doesn’t want to test just how invincible he really is. So he grips his sword tightly in one hand and lifts his shield to cover his face. The cockatrice is flapping its feathered wings and screeching like there’s no tomorrow. Besides a killer gaze the monstrous chicken has also revealed the ability to breathe fire, doing so in between bouts of high pitched screeching. Between shrieks it belches orange flames, melting the snow and singeing the frozen grass beneath.

“How am I supposed to kill it if I can’t look at it?” he hisses under his breath. His sweater, a hand-knitted gift from Annabeth’s stepmother, is already smoking in three spots, and the smell of burnt wool is making him want to gag. The cockatrice throws itself against his shield, its talons scraping against the metal. He swings his sword blindly, but Riptide’s blade only slices through air. The attack only makes the creature angrier and it spews a stream of flames.

Percy digs in and keeps the shield in place, even as the cockatrice pushes him backwards. Soon snow gives way to icy concrete and then grass before he’s walking on the frozen surface of the pond.

Finally, something he can work with.

Percy raises Riptide above his head and drives it down into the ice. There’s a sound like a gunshot, and the crack spreads like a giant spider web. The cockatrice notices that the ground isn’t so solid anymore and flaps its wings, trying to achieve lift off. It’s in vain, however, as the cracking ice and both of their added wait cause them to fall into the pond.

As the cockatrice flails Percy takes the opportunity to sink Riptide between the monster’s ribs. The cockatrice gives a final screech and explodes into golden dust.

Annabeth is standing at the edge of the pond as Percy pulls himself up onto land. He sends a silent prayer to his father that he’s still dry; otherwise he’d be on the fast track to catching pneumonia in this weather.

“Are you okay?” Annabeth asks, seizing his elbow and pulling him upright. He might be dry, but she isn’t so lucky. Her coat and pants are soaked with melting snow. She wipes wet curls and slush from her flushed face. “Oh, look at your sweater. My step-mom’s never going to believe this.”

“Marry me,” Percy blurts.

“Excuse me?” She looks at him like she didn’t hear what he said, but he’s sure she heard each word. Aren’t these two words the ones girls wait for their entire lives to hear?

“I asked you to marry me,” he repeats, capping Riptide and stowing it in his pocket.

Annabeth fixes him with the same calculated look she uses when studying blueprints that don’t make sense. The elastic band that had been restraining her hair has snapped, hallowing her face in gold. She’s wet and muddy, but to him she’s never looked more beautiful.

Percy drops his shield and digs into his pocket, pulling out the small velvet box. “This isn’t a spur of the moment thing. I—I, uh, asked your dad last week, but I was planning to give this to you tomorrow.”

Annabeth continues to stare at him, eyes as stormy as the sky above them. He almost wishes that the cockatrice would be so kind as to emerge from the pound, frozen down to its last feather but ready for round two. Anything would be better than an angry Annabeth.

Finally she reaches out and pulls him by his singed sweater to press her lips to his. He reacts eagerly, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her off the ground. She ends the kiss after a few moments, and they stare at each other through plumes of foggy breath.

Annabeth smiles and squeezes his neck. “What do you think, Seaweed Brain?”


End file.
